


it's crazy, how (we found each other)

by CrazyLaughter



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Based on 'Home', Based on a One Direction Song, Bootcamp, Canon Compliant, Eh I'm not sure, Forgive me for anything, I think?, Kissing, M/M, The X Factor Era, Time Inaccuracies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 18:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5059390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyLaughter/pseuds/CrazyLaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I know you can do it," he cuts him off confidently. "You'll do it. Everyone falls down, Louis. And they get up, and try again. Do this, win this for yourself. Don't be selfless all the blasting time. Try your best without thinking people see and they judge." He points at Louis' chest. "It's in here and you know it."</p><p>Louis gapes at him, he wants to reach out and crunch him into a hug, but he refrains.</p><p>(or)<br/>A one-shot based on One Direction's 'Home' on how Harry and Louis fall in love in the Judge's House.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's crazy, how (we found each other)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in one sitting of three hours, because my fingers were aching for it.  
> It hasn't been read over or edited or betaed, so if there are any grammatical or spelling mistakes, they're mine.

** it's crazy, how (we found each other) **

He's gotten through.

It's the first thing Louis thinks when he wakes up in the morning everyday. It's same thing he thinks when he sees any of the lads' face out of nowhere. It's the thing he thinks when he sees the unfamiliar rooms that don't have beds with his little sisters bouncing on them. He had tried for X Factor, full stop. He thought he flopped the show too. He was shaking with nerves, that he could feel the goose bumps recurring erupting across his skin. That the man with the tech stuff gave him a closed look when he took the microphone from him, feeling him shake all over after the performance. When his mum hugged him, he couldn't stop quivering. That intense.

He did think he lost, and it felt like a relief for a while. Because, no matter, how much he thought about it, he didn't feel like he was made to come on people's telly sets, crooning about love or anything else that could be strung into a song. But, then, he was catastrophically put into a group along with four others, bearing not one similarity with him.

It's not over yet, is his next thought. There are rounds after this. If they get through all of them, it still won't be over. There's no end to proving yourself. It goes on and on and on. Till you're naked, peeled out of onion skin, with nothing put pure whiteness of nothing give up. He's started writing the test, and he won't out of ink ever or out of questions. He's been on telly, and he knows even if he's incidentally kicked out of here, he'll still be asked to prove himself. And he'll have to inevitably do it.

He's so lost sometimes. He doesn't understand why he's here. He doesn't have clarity anywhere, in the moment or in the future. Absolutely no confidence. He feels like he isn't meant to be there. He doesn't. Doesn't. Everything starts with doesn't. Because he can't find anything that is an is. Something isn't a doesn't.

"Louis?"

He looks up at the addressing, startled out of his bones. It comes back to him that he's sitting on his bed, the bottom one of the bunk set. His fingers sprawl out next to him, gripping the scratchy mattress, the blanket still strewn across his lap. He sucks in a reluctant breath, meeting the person's eyes.

Harry stands before him, pressure on one foot more than the other. He told Louis that it was because one of his legs were shorter than his other, which didn't help him in standing proper. His curls are wild, framing his face like petals on a flower. His teeth are worrying his bottom lip, head tilted as if to scrutinise Louis. His eyebrows scrunch when Louis looks at him, mouth twisting into a frown. "Are you alright?"

"I am," Louis pastes on a smile, because it's the least he can do. Harry wastes his energy caring for him, and he's more than grateful. He knows that even if all this temporary, he can lose or he can win. But Harry will stay through thick and thin. He's made sure to brand that into Louis' head since the last few days and he can't even put that into words or gestures to how it was explained to him.

Harry doesn't say anything, he glances at him one more time, and pulls his pyjamas up and proceeds to climb the ladder to his top bunk. Liam waltzes into the room, in an awfully good mood. "Okay, lads, get some good sleep. We need to practice better than today, tomorrow."

Louis shakes his head to himself, and lay back, getting comfortable into his place. He nods a good night at Zayn and tries to fall asleep right after the automatic lights go off. He tries. He hears Harry shuffling above him, the wood frame creaking. It scares him, if it'll fall right over him. He doesn't sleep all night, though. There's unknown fear sitting on his chest, bracketing his ribs and there's Harry up there, turning too much. He supposes he isn't alone.

***

It's a long day for him. He's tired. He's more than tired. Liam forces them to practice so much his throat might expel his windpipe. He understands that Liam doesn't believe in third and fourth chances, and that he was born for stardom and it's effects. He got to know that Liam had tried two years ago and failed to get the spot he currently was in. His life was put in the other four's hands, and there was nothing Louis could do.

He's so frustrated. He hasn't done any tedious work or brain wracking things, but he wants to scream and he wants time to stop. He wants things to lie inanimate till he rusticates his anguish, and then to get it working again. But, he wants somebody to hear him, he wants somebody to understand him, but he knows no one will. He doesn't belong here, he thinks. He's simply wasting his time.

He isn't good enough, he tells himself all the time. He's merely wasted two years finishing the last year of his high school. He doesn't think he'll do well in university. He has dreams, but they'll remain floating and unattended, like dreams. All dreams don't turn into aims and fulfilments. He doesn't know what to do with his life. Where he is, or his identity.

His phone pings with a notification of a text. It's funny, because he talked to his mum and sisters just an hour ago. Lottie seemingly was missing him enough to not want to let food go down her throat. If only she knew. Maybe it's his step-dad. His mum told him the forfeiting news of their divorce a day ago, and it still hadn't settled on him. He knew they were fighting behind the closed door, hell, even his sisters knew. They all continued to play under the dining table as if nothing was wrong.

When he glances down to see the screen light up with Hannah's picture. _I miss you_ , it says. _When will you come home_ , it asks. He doesn't read the rest of the long message. He doesn't want to when he feels sick to his stomach. So, when he looks around and sees that everyone's asleep, he tip-toes out of the room. He goes to the Rindow place. It's a hide-out that he and Harry stumbled upon when they first came here. It looked like a large window, and when they sat on the sill, it expanded like a tiny roof under their feet. Harry combined the names and that's how the name stuck. You could close your eyes and hears traffic noise, and it would feel like everything was normal.

When he arrives there, he's taken aback that Harry's already seated there with his hair blowing to the side and his knees drawn to his chest. Without a greeting, he slides in next to him, watching the city lights get brighter and brighter in his eyes. Or rather get more blurred, he can't tell. From his peripheral vision, he can see Harry give him a soft smile, before turning away.

"Couldn't sleep?" Harry's deep voice flips his stomach. Louis shakes his head, and frowns because Harry knows the answer to that. It's probably rhetorical, but it's too strained to not be formal. "Me too."

They sit their quietly and Louis can't help but peer repeatedly at Harry. He wants to tell him everything to get it off his chest. But he can't. He thinks it's going to burden him. He doesn't think he can form words to tell him, either. He can't tell Harry about Hannah. How everything seems magnified to him in the moment. How he only started dating Hannah because he was scared. That society might not accept him for not dating anybody, or for coming off as abnormal of a sort. He can't tell him that kissing her felt like kissing a dead fish. And that he would break her heart in the end, because he's positive it'll end only as a one-sided relationship.

But, instead, he gulps the words down.

He gets up, not having opened his mouth to Harry and settles back in bed. Just when he's falling asleep, he hears a soft padding until it's no more. A figure climbs over him and lies beside him, only partially touching him. Louis can feel a few curly locks tickle his neck. He doesn't say anything, just pretends to be asleep.

When he awakes the next day, there's no trace that somebody was next to him. The sheets are neat and spread out. He realises that he didn't answer the text Hannah sent. Instead, he deletes it.

***

Louis fights with Liam the next day. It's only verbal, but the words hit him physically. He wants to let his knees buckle until he falls to the ground and bawls his freaking eyes out. But, he purses his lips and walks away.

Niall comes up to him though, after a while, offering free _Dairy Milk_ and who is he to turn down chocolate, besides Niall is the one who eats like there's a void churning in his stomach. He can't really say no.

The thing is, he doesn't know Niall that too well. He's connected with Harry immediately, is trusting Zayn step by step, dislikes Liam's guts. And Niall. Niall is like the neutral boy, there isn't anything to dislike in him. He's happy-go-lucky and fun, and he treats Harry like his brother. But, he knows Niall has a soft corner for Liam, like a big brother.

"If you're going to apologise about how Liam's been a complete duffer, then I don't want to listen," Louis says after he pops in two squares of the chocolate, focussing on how it melts in his mouth and not on the anger that bubbles inside him.

Niall looks at him sideways, with an amused smile. "I wasn't actually. He's a hothead from what I know. I'd rather come to you with chocolate than go near him."

"You don't even know me," Louis shoots reflexively, then cringes at his outstandish statement.

"I think I do a little, I can read people pretty well. But you're a closed book, and I want to know more about you so that the only proper thing I say to you everyday isn't good morning and good night. Liam and Harry are the easiest though, which is why it was easier to talk them. I still don't understand Zayn, sometimes." Niall takes a bite out his bar.

"Speaking of Zayn, where are the other two?" Louis faces him properly.

"Zayn's gone to calm Liam down, he's the only who can do that. I don't know where Harry is though." But, Louis does.

"Oh. I..."

"Yeah, you upset him," Niall replies bluntly, it sounds like a butter knife driving into Louis' gut. "But, he'll be okay." He pauses, giving Louis a look that seems hopeful. Too hopeful. "Look, Louis, you might not have the healthiest relationship with Liam, right now. But, you never know. You two might bond like no other." He pauses again, to eat. "I'm telling you this, because you're nice enough to listen and Angry-Liam isn't. You'll sort it out."

Louis internally scoffs at that. Liam's never going to be on his side, ever. He understands that it's the end of the conversation, so jumps up and walks away. Practice is unofficially over, anyways.

***

Harry doesn't come back till dinner, and even during it, he doesn't sit in his usual place next to Louis. He ushers away to Niall's side and laughs and eats like it's everyday. But, Louis can feel a little hole burning in the middle of his chest. He just bites the inside of his cheek and forcibly swallows his cauliflower.

When he's in bed, he realises that the top bunk isn't creaking. He does the same deed of going back the Rindow. He exhales in relief when he sees Harry there, almost like a deja vu of earlier, in the same position. He sits down next to him, practically breathing out his words. "I'm sorry."

He looks up, lips ajar in contemplation. "I didn't ask for you to be sorry, it's not like I was a part of today morning."

Louis wrings his fingers in his lap. "I know," he wets his lips. "I know, but I am. I am sorry."

Harry ignores it though, pushing another question in front of him. "Tell me what's wrong, Lou. I know something's bothering you."

"Nothing is," is Louis' immediate response. Because it's a template inside him. He says that to anybody who asks. But, he knows he's screaming inside. It's a meaningless turmoil that eats him.

"I know I'm not supposed to push you and I have no right to do that, whatsoever. But let me tell you, telling somebody helps. And I want to be a somebody for you," Harry says firmly. "If you'll let me." Louis doesn't say anything, he looks down, telling himself to breath. In, out. In, out. Like a drill. A drill too familiar. "Please, Lou. I'm a good listener."

Louis wets his lips again. "Don't you think all this is getting to you?" He asks as a conversation starter.

"Sometimes, yes."

"Like, it's seriously very small and it's not pressurising at all," Louis begins to emphasise. "But, doesn't it feel like it's too much when you think about it?" He takes off when he earns Harry's encouraging nod. "Everyone's expecting from us. Everyone. We're on telly, there are people watching and wanting us to win. And...and, I want to. But, I don't think I can. I don't think I will. Coming this far was so hard for me, I pushed myself so much and I don't even know how I came till here when I have zero confidence. I even had to do my Year 12 twice because I wasn't good enough. What if it's something like that? I'm trying, but if I don't succeed? What if I fail, then what will people think? Everybody has expectations. My parents, my sisters, my bloody girlfriend. Hell, even Liam. What if I can't do it." He sniffles from the cold. "I know they don't do it on purpose. We need money and my sisters think I'm the best brother in the world, and that I can do anything. My so called- Hannah, she doesn't want her boyfriend to be a failure. Liam's career is based on me, on us. What if something I do brings all of you down?"

Harry doesn't say a word through all of it. He turns his body to Louis, shaking his head in a way that says Louis' being nothing but wazzack. "Louis," he says softly, like a wind. It brings a chill down his spine. "I know. It's a lot of pressure. But, I think you're handling it so well. If I were you, I'd have already cried from what you tell me you're feeling." He places a hand over Louis' shivering one. "But, I don't think you'll be a failure. Ever."

"You're just saying that-"

"I'm not just saying that," he rips out fiercely. "I know what I'm talking about. I know people look up to you, and they think you're a role model. Even I think so. I know you've stuck around instead of going crazy. You take care of your sisters, and you take your mum's role and you be the clown to cheer people up. That's a gift, you know. You push your sadness away for others to be happy. You don't let your woe reflect on your face, and how many people can do that?"

"Harry, but-"

"I know you can do it," he cuts him off confidently. "You'll do it. Everyone falls down, Louis. And they get up, and try again. Do this, win this for yourself. Don't be selfless all the blasting time. Try your best without thinking people see and they judge." He points at Louis' chest. "It's in here and you know it."

Louis gapes at him, he wants to reach out and crunch him into a hug, but he refrains. "Thanks, Harry," he says in place of that. They don't talk after that. They walk back together to their bed. Louis watches Harry climb onto his, telling him a secret good night with his eyes before sinking into his own bed. After a while, when he detects Harry lying next to him, even with his closed eyes, he doesn't respond.

***

It's considerably better after that. Liam apologises to him, and he accepts it. Then, Zayn and Harry shoot him a look and he's forced to say sorry in return for his im-parliamentary words. Niall says they should take the day off with a little party. Liam negotiates practice of half a day. They practice, it's a better for Louis though. It's light and he thinks he's doing better.

It becomes a ritual after a while. Harry and him sit by the Rindow every night till they get drowsy and tumble into bed. Harry worms to his side and he doesn't say anything every time. It's like a tape, it goes on. And the funny thing is that, he sleeps better with knowing that there is someone sleeping next to him.

Generally, he never concurs Harry when he comes to sleep next to him, mostly pretends to be asleep. But this time, he lets it slip by winding an arm around his shoulder when Harry slips right in. He can feel him stiffen under him, but he falls asleep.

The next day however, Harry refuses to acknowledge him at all. He goes after him again and again, but he doesn't meet his eyes. He sticks by Niall's side the whole time, and it brings out a change in Louis' attitude. He becomes cranky, hollering at anyone or rather, anything in his sight. The lads notice, of course. They don't say a word. Yet.

Everyone in the house casts him sympathetic eyes that make him want to hide under the floorboards. They practice emotionlessly, on and on and Louis doesn't ask for a break. It surprises Liam and he makes a joke about it, though nobody laughs. It's in the evening when Zayn takes him along with him for a smoke.

"How do you do that?" Louis asks when he sees rings of smoke exit the other boy's mouth, skilfully and pretty.

"Been trying since fifteen, bro," Zayn mutters. "Don't ever even think about picking it up. I'm already regretting it."

"Why not quit it, then?"

"It's not as easy as you say it. Not having a smoke is like, it's like restlessness trying to kill you. All your nerves don't work and your brain doesn't listen to you. You just need a smoke, because it feels like you're dying." Zayn looks up at the grey sky. "Do you know what Oscar Wilde said?"

"That guy didn't even smoke," Louis scorns, but huffs when given a glare. "Okay, I don't. You're the genius here, tell me."

"He said that the cigarette is the perfect type of pleasure. It is exquisite, and it leaves one unsatisfied," Zayn words wisely, with a glint in his eye.

"So, you have a thing for being unsatisfied?" Louis snorts, crossing his arms.

"Shut up," Zayn says defensively. "This is not why I called you here."

"No, we're-"

"No, we're not talking about anything. We're not going to sit here and make friendship bracelets and talk about our feelings. It's not what men do." Zayn says. His statement makes Louis frown. He didn't understand what was so not manly in talking about what you feel. If Harry was there, he'd slap Zayn without a doubt. Because he knows Harry is someone who doesn't like communication gaps, and he forces people to talk about their feelings to make them feel better. "Louis, look man. I know you both are friends."

"Of course, we're friends," Louis says with the obvious tone.

"That's not what I meant. I know both of you sneak out of the room and go somewhere. And then, Harry comes back and sleeps next you. I don't know what you do in there, but you should know that there are three pairs of innocent eyes in the room too," Zayn says casually.

Louis whips his head towards him so quickly, his nerve gets caught. His eyes bulge and he thinks he's going to kneel over if he understood it is the way Zayn said it. "What do you mean?"

"You guys had a fight, I know that. It's cool, man. We're not going to get in the middle. You two figure it out by yourself. Just don't let it affect all of us."

"No!" Louis almost shrieks. "What did you mean before that?"

Zayn eyes him curiously, eyebrows scrunching in confusion. "You and Harry have something going, right? I thought it goes in all bands. You tell me, I won't judge."

"No, no," Louis interjects. "Who said me and Harry were like that? We're just friends, that's it. We're a little close and we tend to get touchy, that's all." It's like he's convincing Zayn, but it begins to sound like he's convincing himself.

"Oh, I'm sorry for presuming," Zayn says, but it doesn't sound apologetic at all. When Louis goes back, he blames Zayn for planting that thought in his head. His words play over and over again in his head. What if it wasn't friendly, he thinks to himself? Again, he douses it by blaming it on Zayn.

***

Harry sitting at the Rindow as expected. When Louis looked at the digital clock beside him, it read 3:23. Harry wasn't in his bunk, so he thought he would at there place. That's how he's here, after plucking out courage. He silently sits next to Harry, who startles at his arrival.

He looks like a deer in the headlight, quickly recoiling into his shell after he sees him. His bottom lip wobbles, Louis notices. His eyes are wide and glassy and his curls are curlier than ever before. Or it's just Louis' eyes. "I'm sorry, Lou- Louis, I'm so sorry."

"For ignoring me all day? Then, you aren't forgiven," Louis replies, not sounding hostile though.

"No," Harry says, biting his lip as he looks down. "I mean, I thought you wouldn't want to talk to me. I didn't exactly do right, did I?"

"Why did you think I wouldn't want to talk you?"

"Because of yesterday," Harry says vaguely.

"What about yesterday?"

"Are we seriously doing this?" He looks up and Louis can see anger and fear and sadness in a concentrated mixture in his eyes. He still doesn't understand though. Harry clears his throat. "I know you probably think I'm a freak. I should have asked you before I slept beside you."

Louis almost laughs at that, because are they talking and fighting about things like this? But, he looks over and he can see Harry looks lost. Somewhere. A place he has to be pulled out from. He decides against having a conversation about himself. "Harry, tell me what's wrong."

Harry turns to look at him curiously at the parroted words. He once said them to Louis in a period of crisis, it's only fair if he shared it again. "Why do you think something's wrong?" He whispers, his voice trembling slightly.

"Because you're not okay, and I can tell," Louis says, tone as gentle as he can get. He's never talked like this to anybody, not even his own sisters. But, towards Harry, it feels right. Because he's one of the best human beings he met, and he deserves it. "I don't about you, but I'm a good listener."

He cracks a small smile at that, but it's overpowered soon by the quivering. He sniffs in, taking a breath in like he's bracing himself. "I've just not been myself for a few days, that's all. Happens to everybody."

"Why though? What made you think that I won't be there to listen to you if you're feeling down?" Louis hesitantly places a hand on his back, relieved that Harry relaxes into him and doesn't pull himself away. He looks like he's about to cry, and Louis wants to fold him up in his arms and give him hot cocoa so he could smile. Crazy thoughts, but he doesn't care. He rubs his back, seeing it will coax words out of him.

It does. "I..." Harry begins before his breath gets caught in his throat, he swallows, his tears probably. "I don't belong here, you know." Before Louis can start to contradict, he goes on. "I feel like everyone here has potential and, I feel like such a joke amongst everybody. I thought I knew what I was doing when I came here. Now, it's like- I ask myself why I even exist. Like, what am I here for? What's the use of me? And I can't see anything. For myself or for my future. I feel...useless."

"Who agreed to that?" Louis asks rhetorically.

"I don't know. That's how I feel. And it keeps putting me down. I'm scared...I'm scared that it's true. I want to good enough, you know? I don't want to make crap music. If it's for the world, it deserves to the best. What if..." He trails off, sighing.

Louis hauls him to his chest before anything else. He can feel the bashful tears choking out of Harry as he rubs along his back, assuring him wordlessly that it's alright to cry. Harry's a beautiful person, from all that he knows. Inside and outside. He knows enough to conclude it. He's so compassionate, so bright that it put anything else to shame before him. Louis can't think of a person like that thinking he isn't enough. He doesn't understand why his chest clenches when he hears Harry sob, he only squeezes him tighter. "Tell your brain it has no right to think like that, okay?"

"What?" Harry sniffles into his shoulder.

"You're one of the best people I've ever met, Harry Styles, remember that. Everybody loves you so much, why can't you see that? Your personality will the one to get you through for sure, and take my word for it. I'll be your slave for the rest of your life, otherwise." Louis smiles to himself when the other lets out a wet chuckle. "Go ask anyone in the house if they think you're not worthy. If you won't get through, then I won't get through, okay? I'll quit."

Harry pulls back, looking at him with big eyes. "You can't do that! That won't be fair."

"Who said I ever listen to rules, much less you?" Louis smirks.

He laughs at that, big and ringing and watery. Sounding like sleigh bells, or the sound of rain when it hits mud, or the sigh of satisfaction, he can't tell the difference. Harry sobers up quick, frowning. "I'm sorry I slept next to you without asking."

"You didn't have to ask, Haz," replies Louis. "I knew you were sleeping next to me since day you started. Let me tell you, I sleep better when I'm next to you. I used to stay up late with weird thoughts, but I sleep better. So, thank you."

"I sleep better when I sleep with someone too," Harry says quietly. Louis' heart drops just a little when he says someone, he doesn't know why. "Being away from home is giving me a hard time. I just, I don't adapt very quickly. And all this seems like a mess. If you're not comfortable with it, I can request Niall to-"

"No need to explain anything to me," Louis cuts in, trying to sound chipper. He's definitely not going to let an Irish boy take his place, nope. "I know what's its like to be homesick, okay? I know hard it is to be away from people you've known for sixteen years. Maybe that's why I can't sleep either. All I know is that I miss home like you do. And...and, that's completely alright." Louis wets his lips, glancing at him with a sheepish face. "Could you sleep in my bed from today. I...I'd, appreciate it. I don't know if you'd be okay with that, but I know both of us sleep better."

"Lou, I'm bisexual."

Louis' a little shocked even though he already knew that. All the lads were told in a game of Confessions once, and back then -which felt like lifetimes ago- it didn't seem like a big deal. But, now it does. Because it's a part of their special time. And it feels like Harry's notifying him on it. It is a big deal now, because something in his stomach flutters. "I know," he shakily answers. "What has that do to do with this?"

"I'm into guys and I'm sleeping next to you, doesn't that seem like a problem to you?" Harry asks, red nosed and confused. God, he's so cute, Louis thinks. Then, platonic cute, he tells himself.

He swallows. Of course, he has a problem with it, just not in the way Harry thinks he does. He doesn't even understand what he's thinking at the moment. Everything's out of place, but it feels alright. "Of course not, why would you think so." Harry looks down at his lap and Louis reads the time on his phone. 3:56, it says. "C'mon now, lets go sleep. We have two and half hours before have to wake up again."

Harry groans, but nonethless stands up and aids a hand to the other boy for him to stand. They walk back to their room, being sure not to step on the creaky floorboards. Louis gestures for him to get into his bed towards the wall, smiling to himself when Harry shifts in awkwardly. Now that they've recognised their need to sleep in such a pattern, he finds it weird. They doesn't quite touch, just their fingertips accidentally brushing together. He smiles when he feels Harry's arms wrapping around his torso, mumbling in his sleep with a pig snort. Zayn can go screw off, he thinks. He doesn't care what anybody thinks. He feels carefree and light when he drifts off to sleep.

When he wakes up, though, it's quite a surprise. He's almost forgotten that Harry's next to him sleeping, and not actually run off like before. His head is across Louis, and his looks too ethereal to be veritable, but a tinge of human stuck to it. Out of the world, but down to earth. Somewhere bordering godly. A feeling runs through him, familiar to the vibrations in his chest when someone jams an electric guitar.

The sunlight sieves through the window and pulls him into the limelight, quite literally. The iridescence splayed on his cheek just punches. When he sees it all, the first thing that comes to Louis Tomlinson's mind is that he never liked Hannah at all. It's not the first time he's thought it, though.

They wake up after Louis falls asleep and they realise they've kipped in, because Louis' cursed alarm didn't go off and it flashes a menacing 8:14 at them. Harry stretches, mouth obscenely wide with an echoing yawn and his back curves into a hot position before he sits up. Louis who's watching him, smiles immediately when they meet eyes.

Harry looks uncertain for a second, but he beams, spreading the length of his lips out and out till his dimples makes an appearance. It's hurts in a good way to see them. It's an ineffable feeling of fkcsahwlkdxq. Like, that's now he feels, a bunch of alphabets put together that can't describe it. "Morning."

"Good morning," Louis corrects. "Had a nice sleep?"

"The best," he answers confidently.

They hurry up and run towards practice. Liam doesn't glower at them, but the three of them exchange looks that make Louis angry. He tells them that they didn't have the heart to wake them up. He doesn't say anything, but Zayn's words from yesterday circulate in his brain. Again and again. Again and again.

***

Louis can't stop thinking of the same thing whenever his mind's idle. _Am I gay?_ He doesn't want to know the answer to that, be it yes or no. He doesn't think he's properly into woman, but he doesn't want to be into men either. He already has so much on his plate and it's rather cliché for someone from a boy band to be homosexual.

So, instead, he blames it on Zayn. But, mostly on Harry. Harry can make anybody question themselves. And he can't explain how effected he is after that day. He lets Harry touch him, sleep next to him, anything. But, he feels guilty while reciprocating. He feels like it's right, but it isn't. He knows that on the inside.

It's the same thing that flashes across his memory again and again. How heartbroken and infatuated he felt when Harry had cried that day. Something so breath-taking, something so despairingly beautiful in the way he sobs. The way his chest tightens, or the way his shoulders slump or the way his eyebrows slant that makes everything seem like everything's downhill. The way he digs his teeth into his lip to swallow his cries. The way Louis would want to gather him to himself -a probable involuntary action. He knows that he won't mind.

Harry reminds him of a tired child scared of turning his grown-up act into something devastatingly real. Or someone who where neck-ties like a religion. Like he's scared the inevitable lines on his forehead won't belong in the laughter line league's. The melancholy in his eyes drown out the worry. He's just a pain stricken soul, who keeps it to himself. He's just another man in a golden cage. He locks away himself with tight padlocks and rusted keyholes and skeleton keys. And Louis wants to be the one to break them all away with a sledgehammer.

"I don't like what you're doing, Louis," Niall says to him one day. He's sceptically eyeing him, sounding the most serious he ever could. "You think you're not doing anything, but you're pushing him away. You don't realise it, but you are. It's affecting him, and it'll affect all of us if it continues."

"What am I doing?" Louis asks, though he knows the answer to that.

"Absolutely nothing," He says sarcastically, also rather dramatically.

"What is your problem?"

"Why can't you just tell him that you have a crush on him, instead of making us watch you guys mope so much!" Niall exclaims.

"Wait up," Louis says gravely. "Who said I had a crush on him? What would even give you the idea of that?"

"It's obvious!" Niall sneers, no heat behind it. "You're too blind to each other. Your eyes follow him all the time and he always gravitates towards you. I can't watch all this unrequited love!"

"Why would you think any of that?" Louis stumbles over his words.

"Because that's what I see," he explains as if it's blatant. "Give it up, mate. You don't even have competition."

"I-I. I don't like Harry like that," Louis can feel his windpipe narrowing. He can't break down here, not in front of Niall. Not at all. He focuses on breathing, exhaling his words at the high speed. "I don't. It's. It's not like that. Why would you think that? No. Never. It's never like that. It'll never be like that."

He's blinking out of his haze when he realises Niall is beside him, rubbing his back. He shrinks back, glaring at the boy. "Lou, man, don't do this to yourself. It's okay to like him. I don't even blame you, if I allowed it, I'd end up liking Harry too. He's very likable."

"Then, why didn't you?"

"I would have with time, but you got there before me. And I don't think I'd like him, because I know you like him." Niall says, and continues before Louis can argue. "It's a theory, Louis, that's it. I haven't told anyone this. Liam and Zayn just think it's fishy, but I'm talking to you. I know you like him."

"But, I'm not supposed to like him!" Louis bursts.

"Because it makes you gay?" Niall raises an eyebrow.

"No. Yes." Louis argues. "I don't mind gay people. It's all equal. I'm not ready to tell everyone that I'm gay, but I know I eventually will be. Or not, I'm still not sure. But I can't like him! We're in a band. Inter-band relationships aren't supposed to happen. They're forbidden because they mess up the whole group if they don't turn out good." He pauses to breath. "Do you know how predictable we'll be if we're one of those boy-bands where one of them is gay."

"Don't tell anyone then," Niall shoots back. "I'm not going to tell anyone. You go tell Harry first, that's important. And don't even think about what will happen to you. Leave that to the future. You worry too much, grandpa. "

Louis just huffs and turns away. When Niall realises that its the end of their conversation, he leaves a water bottle at his feet and walks away. And, it wouldn't be fair if Louis didn't kick it away. And then, pick it up to quench his parched mouth.

That night, Louis is seated at the Rindow. Harry doesn't quite come there often, so he's very sure he won't come at the moment either. He hugs himself, pulling his loose jumper over his collar, shivering as the night wind seeps into him. He thinks about what Niall said that morning.

He's gay. He has to accept it.

It's a tad bit forced, though. It's no time to have a sexuality crisis and he can't afford in wasting all his time on experimenting, though. He might get terrified of seeing a naked man, but he knows it will work out with Harry. Harry's just Harry. Anything will work out with him.

But, he doesn't want to talk about it. He can't tell his parents, family, and everyone else -much less Harry. He isn't ready for the horrors behind coming out, as they all. Sometimes, he thinks he's taking it too far by determining his orientation within such short time. But then, he thinks of all those girls he had to fake-smile at, and have sex with for prestige. It seems rather pleasurable with Harry. Not to add that awkward dream he had a few days ago.

Then, he realises that he isn't overthinking it. But, he has to come to terms with it, and that looks like a long way from where he's standing. He knows Harry will make it easier for him, he always does. He knows Harry and himself will never come out the comfort zone with consents. He can smile the way he wants with Harry, and that's a major add-up. That's a complete fact.

There hasn't been a day he's been remorseful when he was with Harry. Maybe sad-to-turn-happy, but never angry or solidly sad. It's not like Harry's godsend or anything, or maybe he is. Louis can't tell. But he'll assume he is, because nobody can probably understand his inner battle except for Harry. He might not understand fully, but he attempts. That's all Louis needs. That's all he'll ever need.

Somebody plops next to him, and he jumps. "Louis William Tomlinson, what's been wrong with you these last few days?" Harry, of course. He should have found another spot, idiot Louis.

Louis grumbles, looking down. "Nothing."

Harry grabs his chin and wrenches it up to meet his eyes, ignoring the hiss that comes from Louis' mouth. "Look at me when you're talking, get that? I can tell if you're telling the truth or not." Harry's eyes are wild, anger sloping his eyebrows. His nostril flare and his mouth is pressed together like he's tasting something sour.

He jerks his head out of the other's grip. "Lord, Harry. I'm fine."

"You aren't. But, I'm not going to sit here and bear you being drama queen. Just tell me if you want me to bugger of, I'll do it. Stop pulling me in and then, pushing me out. Choose one. Keep me around or ditch me. Either one. If you don't want my company anymore, tell me out straight. I won't mind," Harry says fiercely, spitting furiously.

"I do want you around," Louis mumbles.

"Then, act like it!" Harry exclaims. "Don't play with me. I don't like it."

"I'm not playing with you!" Louis shoots back and this time, he's angry too. He's angry with himself, Harry and Niall and the rest of the world. It sucks, being miserable like this. It's not like he chose to put it on himself. Curse Harry for being so nice and attractive. Honestly, curse him. "I just need some time alone."

"Why couldn't you tell me that? How long? Tell me how long and I won't bother you till then," He says, resignedly.

"But, I want you to bother me," Louis counters weakly.

"You, what?" Harry's still so attractive while he's scowling. "Do you have any sense of what you're saying? Just tell me if you want me around or not."

"I do want you around," Louis gulps, wetting his lips. He grips the sill tightly, looking at the pretty lights in the dark. The wind isn't helping with his nerves, but it's still helping with his quivering that has nothing to do with the cold. "I want you around. I do. But, I can't be around."

"Louis, this isn't a time to be a cryptic barmpot," Harry hisses like he's reaching the end of his patience, which he reckons, he is.

"I want you around, but I can't be around you." He sighs, "I don't know how to say this."

"Use English, Lou, I'm sure you can do that," Harry says sarcastically.

"I just. I. The thing is." Louis takes in a deep breath, shuddering and closing his eyes. "I'm gay. I'm gay and you're responsible."

Harry is gaping at him, it goes on for long. "I'm. I'm responsible? How am I _responsible_ for it? Is this supposed to be- _what?_ "

"God," Louis exhales shakily. He can finally feel the suppressed tears resurfacing. His throat feels parched and he can feel the bile rising in his throat. His windpipe begins to narrow like it did in the morning and he's not prepared. He's not prepared at all. It's so spontaneous. He's only coming out to the one he has feeling for, why is it so difficult? If coming out to one is like this, how must to feel to tell everyone? It's harder than he anticipated it to be. "I-I like you, okay? And I'm not supposed to. I'm not supposed to prefer blokes. I just."

Now, it's out there. The truth is raw and rough and harsh and every word in the dictionary to define petulant. He thought that facing your problems is important, and now he can't look it in the eye when it's smiling at him. It's outside him, like an individually mocking entity. He scrambles on to his feet and tries to scurry away.

But, Harry stops him when he's stood up. Harry. Always Harry. Here, then, always. He's going to be there, no matter what. But, he's sure not through this. He lets himself be stopped, a small part of him revels at it, and he's not supporting that part, but still. "Hey, look at me." Louis can't. He can't look into those eyes and see disappointment or anger or anything. He can't look up, full stop. But, Harry is so gentle in tipping his head up. "Really? Are you telling me the truth."

The tears are falling rapidly now. Drop by drop. Plop, plop, plop. He nods. "Y-Yeah."

"Why do you think it's a bad thing?" Harry asks.

Louis can't tell if his voice is before him, or in his ear or a few meters away. It sounds eerie to him. He rubs his nose at the back of his hand, letting him reach up and wipe away his tears. "Because. Because, I'm just not supposed. I've spent so much time building something back at home. I even got a _girlfriend_ for it. Someone who likes girls and dates and laughs like nothing's wrong. I can't do this. Everything's going to fall down." He almost accuses, "And you have to come around with your charm and amazingness and make it all tumble down. Damn you."

Harry is still so soft with him, talking to him like a child and that's how he feels. "Lou, would you rather be the real you with me or would you pretend for the rest of your life because a few hags think something? How long will you keep it going for?"

He turns away abruptly. "You don't get it!"

"I absolutely get it, and you know that," Harry says calmly.

"I can't like guys! I don't want to like guys!" Louis exclaims, his face red and hot.

"Fine, then," Harry concludes firmly, it puzzles him. He moves forward, making him take a step back. "You don't like guys. But, you like me coming closer, don't you?" He whispers, taking another step. Louis gulps, not averting his gaze. Harry's hands come up to cup his face. "You don't like guys but you like me touching you."

Louis would be lying if he said his heart wasn't rabbiting in his throat, jerking back and forth. He gulps, hoping he doesn't end up having a cardiac arrest. Harry moves him against wall- adjacent to the Rindow and lines their forehead. "You don't like guys, but you like me this close." Then, he dips and their mouth meet, feverish and tentative.

He's a goner. Louis' a goner for sure. For once he's actually fervent in kissing. Because it feels nice, not like how he's kissed anyone else. It's a relief to think he hadn't been making it all. Harry kisses him thoroughly, like he's claiming him, hot and enthusiastic. When he pulls back till only their noses are touching, Louis feels his knees buckle.

"You don't like guys, but you liked that, did you?" Harry says hotly against him. He sounds hoarse, like happy, but destroyed. Kinda how Louis is feeling.

"I can't like guys," Louis repeats stubbornly, but like he's given up. He feels the warmth move away, but he's quick to grab it back by the shirt, till they're close enough to kiss again. "I don't want you," he whispers, then initiates to latch their lips together. He pulls back out of breath. "I don't want you at all." A kiss. "Get lost." A kiss. "I don't need you."

"You don't?" Harry asks, sounding rhetorical, husky and wrecked all at once. "Don't need me at all, eh?"

Louis loops his arms around the latter's neck, pulling him closer till his head is hooked over his shoulder. "Don't need you all," he mumbles into Harry's ear. "I hate you." In turn, he feels better when a pair of arms wind around his waist.

"But, I do, Lou," Harry confesses, serious and diplomatic. His breath tickles. "We can make it, yeah? You don't have to label yourself. You're not gay unless you say, and you don't have to. You can be the way you want to, I'll help you, okay? I'm going to be right here, and if you think anybody is going to say anything, I'll fight them. We'll fight them. You don't have to like guys. You can like me. I'm not just another guy, am I?"

When they go back, Louis loosens up more and more when they lay next to each other. Snogging till they're yawning. When they wake up the next morning, tangled in each other, Louis doesn't find himself to mind.

***

Maybe years later, Louis put the pen to the paper and wrote down words that meant time. Maybe a few months after that, Harry Styles with a tinge of his old self, and old private smile is across him, recording his solo in the song. Singing _Baby, we could be enough_ when he catches his eyes. Maybe during the breath space between the line, Harry brings his hand up to kiss the ring on his finger with a coy smile.

Louis swears he can feel the moistness on his cheek.

***

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, feedback is appreciated! xx


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